


Tell Me What You Need

by canistakahari



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Dominance, Kneeling, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim likes to make Bones beg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me What You Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blue_jack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/gifts).



Bones has complained—on multiple occasions and at vociferous length—about how this particular position is hell on the knees, and  _honestly, Jim, what’s the point of fucking on a bed if we ain’t gonna lie on it_ , but when Jim kneels up with his back to the wall, reaching back to grip the headboard with one hand and wrapping his other arm around Bones’s waist to keep him steady, keep him close, Bones acquiesces, like he always does.   
  
“Too much effort,” mutters Bones, leaning back onto his chest, Jim’s cock nudging at his hole. His thighs are trembling and Jim remembers that he never knows where to put his hands, so Jim murmurs, “Hold still. Spread your legs,” into his ear.   
  
Bones’s breath catches and he sinks down lower on the bed. Jim rolls his hips, pushing up into the tight heat of his ass with a soft little thrust, Bones already loose and slick from rounds one and two. Bones is panting by the time Jim is balls-deep, pressed up right into the delicious curve of his ass, spreading him open with his knees, filling him with his cock.   
  
“Can’t,” whispers Bones, his hands flailing for purchase before he grips his own thighs, leaning heavily back against Jim, tipping his head against his shoulder. Jim tightens his arm around his waist. “There’s no goddamn leverage like this, Jim. Damn you. Always doing things the hard way.”  
  
The easy way would be with them both turned right around, Bones facing the headboard, giving him something to hold, but he’s right, Jim likes doing things the hard way. “Keep your hands right there,” he says, voice low, warning. “You are not allowed to touch yourself.”   
  
Bones groans. “Jim—”  
  
Jim cuts him off with a shallow roll of his hips, testing, teasing—experimental—and then he balances them both and starts to fuck into Bones with steady, pointed stabs of his hips, encouraging the little gasps and moans from Bones that he likes best, the ones that wrap around Jim like a blanket.   
  
He loses himself in it, loses himself in  _Bones_ , the snug grip of his body around Jim’s cock, the smooth press of his broad back against Jim’s chest, the slide and tug of their sweat-damp flesh.   
  
“Jim,” says Bones, this time with a note of pleading in his voice. He’s trembling, hips hitching forward into nothing, desperate and touch-starved. Jim spreads his hand over his abdomen, the flat plane of his belly, just teasing into the thick brown curls nestled around his flushed red erection.   
  
“Yeah?”  
  
If Jim tilts his head and directs his gaze down Bones’s taut body, his can see his fingers wrapped white-knuckled around his own thighs. He hasn’t let go.  _Good boy._  
  
“Please,” whispers Bones, breathing raggedly next to Jim’s jaw. “Fuck, Jim, please, I need—”  
  
“What do you need?” asks Jim. He bites his own lip, tamping down on the pressure coiling deep in his belly, curling around his balls. He slows his thrusts and Bones sobs, fingers slipping and immediately fumbling back up to clutch at his thighs.   
  
When Bones doesn’t reply, Jim wraps his thumb and index finger around the base of Bones’s cock, applying minimal pressure.   
  
“Oh, god,” groans Bones, his hips jerking. “God, Jim, please, you  _ass_ , that’s not—that’s not, I want—” His hips buck again fruitlessly, mindless motion that brings him nowhere near completion.   
  
“Tell me what you need,” says Jim.   
  
Bones squirms, clenches around Jim, and Jim smothers his own moan in Bones’s throat, sealing his lip over his pulse point, sucking a bruise into the throb of his heart.   
  
“Touch me,” rasps Bones, pinned helpless against Jim’s body. “Please, god, touch me, Jim, I can’t—I can’t come like this, I need—” He draws in a shuddering breath, and the tension floods out of him, his shoulders slumping. “I need you to touch me, I need you to jerk me off, goddammit,  _please_. I gotta come, I need to come, and Jim, darlin’, please, I need you to—I can’t come like this, I—”  
  
“Shhh,” hushes Jim, kissing the shell of his ear. “I gotcha, Bones.”  
  
He wraps his hand around Bones’s neglected cock, squeezes warm and firm, and slides his thumb over the slit.   
  
“Fuck,” chokes Bones, grinding into Jim’s hand. “Fuck, Jim,  _please_ , that’s it, just—”  
  
“I’ve got you,” repeats Jim, as Bones tenses in his arms and comes over his fist. “I’ve got you.”


End file.
